


Touch

by cyus (cruentum)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M, Mind Control, implied Jackson Whittemore/Matt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-05
Updated: 2012-08-05
Packaged: 2017-11-11 12:32:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/478580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cruentum/pseuds/cyus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jackson gets handed from one to the other, but it's not quite that easy to just move on. Kind of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Touch

**Author's Note:**

> post 2x10

"Shh." 

Jackson shh-ed. Jackson fucking did nothing at all, hands splayed against the wall behind him, as Argent stood too close, fingers still in the just-snapped position. 

"What-"

Argent traced his fingers down his cheeks, down his throat and down his chest, down his sides as he leaned in, close enough to brush his nose along the same path, his breath too hot on Jackson's cheek.

"I've got you," Argent said, hand curving around the back of Jackson's neck, pulling it down to his shoulder. "I've got you now, boy."

And Jackson couldn't do anything but lean into the touch, his heart aching for it as the emptiness he couldn't quite place swelled with every touch and every drag of fingertips on his naked, too naked, skin, and then deflated and filled with something else, something new. He wanted to drop to his knees and did, face pressed between Argent's thighs, just breathing him in as Argent's hand played through his hair, patting, murmuring with his voice too low for anyone to hear but it sunk under Jackson's skin nonetheless.

They were in Jackson's bedroom, David and Shona downstairs preparing the dinner, and Jackson had leaned to look out the window for just a moment, breathing in fresh air and trying to make sense of yet another set of clothes wet and dirty and bloodstained in his shower as all of his life seemed to unravel right before his eyes.

"You've done good, haven't you, Jackson?" Argent said now.

Jackson found himself nodding. He'd done good. He had. Had spent nights curled around Matt's body as Matt had sat crosslegged on the bed, monologuing about revenge and justice and Greek mythology. It had all filtered into Jackson's brain along with Matt's pinches and careful touches, Matt's bouts of anger and the sweet, hot kisses just before and just after the things Jackson couldn't remember but could piece together, but hadn't, because it threatened to shatter the last bit nice he had left inside him.

"You've done so good, boy." Argent rubbed his hand down Jackson's nape, over his shoulders, and with every further moment of being touched by him, the flashes in Jackson's mind faded. Scott and Stiles and most of the rest of the Lacrosse team, Danny and Allison, Allison, Allison again, they all faded into nothing as Derek's image floated to the forefront of Jackson's mind, imprinting itself hot and hard and burning through his skull and his skin with every rasping drag of Argent's fingertips.

"You'll continue to do good, Jackson."

Argent opened his trousers and got his cock out, and Jackson had done it for Danny when they'd been far too young and for Matt because Matt hadn't had anyone, and he took Argent's cock into his mouth now because everything Argent was and wanted swirled in Jackson's chest like it was everything _he_ was and wanted, and he wanted nothing more than to be good now. Always good. He slurped on the cock, sucked wet and gagged and choked on it as Argent pushed a little deeper than Jackson could take it, but Jackson stayed on his knees and tried his best. He soaked up the rewarding the murmurs, the soft touches that spelled out love in reverse and on its head, spelled it out the only way he understood with his eyes closed and filling the hole Matt had left behind.

"I don't understand," Jackson murmured against Argent's cock, but Argent just pulled him in deeper again, fucked his cock down Jackson's throat and made him understand, spelled out his tasks in simple black and white as he came on Jackson's face.

"No, don't," Argent said when Jackson reached up to wipe it away.

Argent's come rolled down Jackson's cheek, collected in the corner of his lips and then slid down from his chin. 

"You'll do me proud, boy." Argent chuckled and cleaned himself off with a handkerchief.

Jackson looked at him and didn't move because he'd not been told to and Argent just smiled at him and petted his head and told him to leave the come, and how it was a nice touch, a Master's touch, indeed, before he disappeared back out of the window.

Jackson knelt and waited and only realized he was crying when the tears dripped to his naked knees, flashes of memories in his head as Matt struggled underwater and he'd been frozen, put on stand-by, until Argent had found the right buttons to press again.

David called for dinner, but Jackson just laid down on the floor and curled up, positions his arms as if he was curled around Matt during one of his speeches, breathing him in, listening, anticipating every mood and every motion and every touch of him. 

He missed him. Come on his face and Argent's touch on him and inside him, but it still couldn't keep him from missing Matt. He didn't have a clue what love was, but this felt an awful fucking lot like heartbreak.


End file.
